Can't Let Go
by TotalFanGirl221B
Summary: Sherlock's daughter, Hannah, tracked him down when she was thirteen. She had been living with her aunt and uncle since Sherlock's wife died, but they felt it was time to help her find him. When she does, he realises how much he's missed her and how he needs her. However, when she is in a terrible accident, how will he react? Please read and review :)
1. Chapter 1

"Are you sure you're not going to be bored?" Sherlock asked Hannah just before leaving. Hannah sighed and repeated the same thing she had been all night before he left.

"I am sure."

"Now there's enough food and stuff in the fridge, and if you need anything you can just call me."

"Dad, you leave me on my own all of the time, how is this any different?"

"Because I don't know when I'll be back, and you've never been on your own at this time of night." before anyone could say any more, John came up the stairs.

"What's going on? Lestrade's waiting."

"He's just coming." Hannah insisted. Sherlock sighed and kissed her forehead. "I'll be absolutely fine, dad." she smiled. He smiled back to her and then he left with John.

Hannah sat at home on her own reading. Sherlock was worried about leaving her on her own in the evening, but she insisted that she would be alright; she's growing up and needs to become an adult. Sherlock was beaten by an outvote and allowed her to stay at home. However, he continued to call her and check up on her when he was in the taxi on his way. "I'm still reading." she would respond every time he called "to see what she was up to".

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"No, I forgot to say a huge guy came in and took all of our things and then me. I'm in his car right now." Sherlock sighed.

"Hannah, I'm just worried about you." Hannah knew he'd been like this since her mother died, so she understood, but she did hate being checked on all of the time.

"There's no need; I'm fine!" Hannah insisted.

"Hello, Hannah, sorry about your dad." John had taken the phone off of Sherlock as soon as he noticed him on it.

"Just have a nice night." John said goodbye to her and then hung up.

Hannah sat in her bedroom doing absolutely nothing. She told herself she was reading, but she was stuck on the same page because she was so bored. All night with nothing to do. Luckily, her phone began to ring. Jack. She smiled joyfully and quickly picked it up. "Hello, Hannah Holmes." she smiled even more.

"Hello, Jack Higgins. What can I do for you?"

"Well, I was wondering if you were busy this evening?"

"I'd better just check my calendar," she joked. "It seems I am free, what did you have in mind?"

"Meet me at my house as soon as you can."

"Why?"

"Wait and see." Jack quickly hung up the phone. Hannah was annoyed he'd just hung up, but incredibly intrigued and excited. She got dressed as quickly as possible. She wore a lovely black dress she had been saving for a special occasion, and some heels. She did her hair and make up which took up quite a bit of time, but she didn't care because she wanted to look her best for whatever Jack had planned. She then zoomed down the stairs and grabbed her keys and Sherlock's car keys as he had gone in John's car. She was so giddy from excitement so she jumped into the car.

She drove as fast as she could, listening to the satnav telling her which turns to take. Suddenly, she heard the tune of her phone ringing from her bag which was beside her. What was she going to do? She couldn't answer it, but she couldn't ignore it. When she had a free moment she quickly looked at who was calling; Sherlock. She sighed and then looked back to the road. She had to answer it. She looked down for a moment and pressed the answer key. Her eyes off the road and only one hand on the wheel. She picked up her phone as her mother spoke, but it was too late. All the other cars had stopped at a red light, but she didn't concentrate in time. "Hi, how is everything?" Hannah could hear her father's voice as she threw her phone and tried to grab the steering wheel. Too late. A car coming from the left smashed into her. She screamed as she got hit and as the car window broke. "Hannah?!" Sherlock could hear her screaming. "Hannah, what's going on?!". Unfortunately, Hannah was unconscious. She had glass in her arm and blood pouring from her head as she'd hit it against the seat and the side window. "Hannah?!"

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**_Thanks for reading :) Will update soon if you review _**


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock sat beside her everyday. John sat with him most days, but obviously had to go home to his own family sometimes. Lestrade had come to visit them and wished his best, even Mycroft came to see how she was doing. Sherlock was devastated. Sherlock was just falling to pieces. Everybody believed it would be Sherlock who would take charge and be able to, not get over her, but to make sure everyone else carried on so he didn't get too upset and too hurt. However, he was breaking. John looked at him through the room window and sighed. The man that he had known to be heartless and to be some robot was know broken. Broken because he loved her.

Sherlock didn't cry at all since he had been there, but he also hadn't spoken a word to anyone. He hadn't slept, he hadn't eaten, he hadn't moved from Hannah's side. Lestrade and John sighed as they saw what a state he was in. "Maybe we should get a coffee?" Lestrade asked. John nodded and then went to ask Sherlock if he needed anything. Sherlock didn't respond, he didn't even shake his head, just held Hannah's hand and stared at her as if she would wake at any moment. John nodded sympathetically and left the room. Lestrade went with him to the canteen to buy some food and drinks.

"He's not taking this well, is he?" John sighed as they both sat down.

"This is going to destroy Sherlock, isn't it? After everything that happened with her mother, this is going to make it worse." Lestrade sighed.

"I know, I don't know what he's going to be like if she... if..." John didn't want to say it. He couldn't. Luckily, Lestrade knew what he was talking about.

"I don't know." they both shook their heads. "We'll all have to watch him though, in case he does something..." Lestrade didn't have to say it; John knew what he was implying. Drugs. And he didn't say it wasn't a possibility, either. Because he knew Sherlock, and he knew what he could do.

"I just... I hope not."

"Is she getting any better?" John shook his head. "Any worse?" he shook his head only slightly, like she was but he didn't want to believe it. Lestrade sighed.

"It's crazy. The other day I saw her. I spoke to her and she was perfectly fine. Sherlock adored her. They were inseparable. And then out of nowhere, this happens. It's just so crazy, she was fine!" Lestrade could see how worked up John was over this, so he attempted to calm him down and reassure him everything would be okay, even though both of them knew things were not looking good.

"John, you need to relax. It's not good for anybody if you blame yourself, either." John felt as if he had pressured Sherlock into going out on that case. He felt responsible for letting him leave Hannah alone. "I asked him to come on the case, alright?" Lestrade sighed. "Nobody's to blame, it's just a tragic accident." John just nodded his head in agreement.

They both went back up to Hannah's room and saw Mycroft sat beside Sherlock. "What's he doing here?" John wondered.

"She is his niece; he probably wants to say goodbye."

"I guess so."

"Sherlock, I'm very sorry." Mycroft spoke to his brother. Sherlock just blinked and continued to stare at his daughter. "I want you to know I am here for you." he sighed as he got no response at all from his little brother. "I'm worried about you, Sherlock. You haven't eaten, slept, anything. It's not healthy."

"I don't... care." Sherlock spoke incredibly quietly. Mycroft was happy to get a response, but he didn't like the response he received.

"Sherlock, you need to take care of yourself too." Sherlock just shook his head and went back to silence. Mycroft sighed and stood up. "Please, brother, just get some rest." he patted Sherlock on the back softly and then left the room. John and Lestrade were stood outside. "You must keep an eye on him," Mycroft spoke. "God knows what he might do if this doesn't work out." Mycroft hung his head slightly.

"Did he say anything at all to you?"

"Just basically that he doesn't care. He doesn't care about looking after himself. You need to make sure he takes care of himself, John. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid." John nodded. "Thank you." Mycroft shook John's hand, then Lestrade's, and then he left the hospital.

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_**Thanks to everyone who's read/reviewed/favourited/followed the story so far :) Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please continue to leave your comments**_


	3. Chapter 3

**The bits in bold/italic are flashbacks :)**

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The doctors stood waiting for Sherlock to say his final goodbyes. Hannah was not responding and was only getting worse; they had no choice but to turn off life support and let nature take its course. There was a slight chance she could respond to it and begin to live without it, but that would be a miracle. Sherlock Holmes was not a man who cared for miracles, yet this time he needed one.

He whispered into her ears how sorry he was for leaving her alone. How he wished he had spent more time with her instead of only getting to know her later on in her life. How every minute with her was amazing and he just wished he hadn't continued his work. Then, he kissed her gently on the forehead after moving her hair slightly from it. He said goodbye and told her how much he loved her and how much he needed her to just speak to him. And then, he let her go.

Just before the doctors did what was needed to be done, a late arrival stopped them. Sherlock picked his head up quickly as Jack walked in. "Can I... Can I say something?" he stood in the doorway panting as he'd just run all the way from the ground floor to get to her. He had visited her before whilst she was there, but this time meant something. Sherlock stared at him for a moment, wondering whether he should let him. It was his phone call that made her drive out, it was he who she went to meet. Nevertheless, he also knew how much he meant to her. How insanely in love she was with him. He remembered how scared she was to find out whether he liked her as much as she did him. So, he smiled a little and then nodded, moving back a little so he could speak. Jack nodded sympathetically and thankfully and then moved towards Hannah's body. "Hannah... I just want to say I'm... I'm so sorry for what I've done." he began to cry silently. He wiped away his tears and sniffed as he spoke to her, realising it was really the end. "I didn't mean for you to get hurt – I didn't... I didn't think you would. I just wanted to see you... I – I..." he broke down as he spoke to her. Sherlock watched him, nearly breaking down himself as he saw how indebted Jack was to his daughter. "I love you... Hannah Holmes. I always will. And I'm really going to miss you." he then kissed her and took one last look at her before standing away.

_**Hannah slowly woke at around 9AM. She glanced around her as she stretched and woke herself properly. She yawned and sat herself up as she suddenly smelt pancakes. She smiled to herself and then threw her blanket off as she got out of bed.**_

_** She stumbled downstairs and into the kitchen and found Sherlock cooking. "Good morning, Hannah." Sherlock continued to cook and Hannah just smiled to herself.**_

"_**Are those pancakes you're making?" she asked curiously trying to look around him. He turned and grinned. **_

"_**As a matter of fact they are pancakes. Would you like some?" Hannah nodded delightedly and the sat herself down in the living room. She grabbed her phone from her pocket and soon began texting her friends.**_

_** Sherlock soon came in with her pancakes covered in lemon juice and sighed. "Already?" he placed himself don on the armchair opposite her. She gave him a look of confusion before realising he was referring to her phone. **_

"_**I'm sorry that I'm so popular." she smiled. Sherlock just grinned and shook his head.**_

"_**Anyway, what are you up to today?" Sherlock asked as he picked up the newspaper. **_

"_**Uh, I don't know." Hannah shrugged her shoulders, barely glancing up at him from her mobile. He sighed and rolled his eyes.**_

"_**You could try and get a job? Get yourself some money instead of asking me all the time?" **_

"_**Maybe..." she shrugged once more. "But until then I guess I'm just going to have to spend yours." Sherlock sighed once more and just gave up.**_

"_**I was thinking you could earn your own so you would have money to go out with Jack..." Sherlock smirked as Hannah shot her head up.**_

"_**How did you...?"**_

"_**You always go on about him and you won't stop texting him." **_

"_**If you're implying that I like Jack, then you are wrong. I don't. We're just good friends." **_

"_**Hannah, you can't fool me, remember?" they both stared at each other in the eyes for a moment, seeing who would crack first. Unfortunately, it was Hannah. She sighed and threw her hands up in the air. **_

"_**This is ridiculous!" she argued. "I just can't have a private life, can I?" Sherlock shook his head jokingly, to which Hannah huffed and then her phone beeped once again. **_

"_**It seems he's keen too." Sherlock spoke as she picked up her phone. Hannah pulled a face at him, but responded quickly to her friend. **_

_** Soon, John came round. "Hey, uncle." Hannah smiled as he entered the living room. "How's Mary?" **_

"_**Hello, Hannah. She's very well, thank you. How are you?" **_

"_**I'm alright." she smiled. "I take it you're here for a case?" John smiled and Hannah nodded. She sat herself down as soon as Sherlock came in and said hello to John. **_

"_**What's the case?" Sherlock asked quickly as he offered John a seat.**_

"_**I don't know, Lestrade just wants to see us at Scotland Yard." Sherlock turned to Hannah. She looked up and knew what the question was going to be.**_

"_**Don't worry, I have plans today anyway." Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "I thought you wanted me to get a job." Sherlock smiled at his daughter and then looked back to John. **_

"_**Right, we'd better go then." He grabbed his coat and John jumped up. "I'll be home as soon as I can." Sherlock smiled to Hannah as he left. **_

_** Sherlock didn't arrive home too late, and Hannah was there when he got back. "Hannah?" he spoke as he came in. She popped her head around the kitchen door and smiled.**_

"_**Hi," she then came out of the kitchen. "What are you doing back so early?" **_

"_**It was an easy case, it's done." he took his coat off and hung it on the back of the door. "What about you? Did you find a job?" **_

"_**Yes, actually." she smiled proudly. "It's just at the supermarket, well, I've got an interview." **_

"_**Ah, well done." Sherlock kissed Hannah on her forehead. **_

_** Sherlock had finished the dinner for himself and Hannah, so he went into her room to tell her. He stood outside and knocked patiently. "Come in!" the voice inside shouted. He made his way in and found her sat at the side of her bed with her phone in her hands. **_

"_**Dinner is ready." he spoke. Hannah looked up to him, and then he could tell something was wrong. "What is it?" she didn't respond. He then threw himself beside her and wrapped his arm around her. She would have shrugged his arm away, but she needed to be comforted. "Is it about what I said earlier?" Hannah looked at him like he was an idiot. **_

"_**Yeah, you really, really hurt me dad." she joked and nudged him with her elbow. He grinned and nudged her back. **_

"_**So what is it?" he looked to her seriously now, and she did the same with him. **_

"_**It's just..." she sighed and looked down. "No, it's nothing. It's fine." she shook her head. She tried to then pull herself away, but Sherlock made sure to pull her back.**_

"_**C'mon, what is it?" **_

"_**It's just stupid. It doesn't matter."**_

"_**It matters if you're upset. Now just tell me, or you're going to have me pestering you all the time." he joked. It made Hannah laugh a little, but then she went serious again. **_

"_**It's really stupid and pathetic-"**_

"_**I don't care."**_

"_**It's just... What if he doesn't like me?" she looked her dad right in the eyes. "Jack, I mean. What if he is just pretending and he likes someone else? Maybe I just annoy him. I'm just a pest..." her words trailed off slowly.**_

"_**Why wouldn't he like you? You're smart, pretty, and you're funny." he smiled to his daughter, but she didn't smile back. "Listen, Hannah. You've been texting each other non stop all day. It seems as though if you're not texting you're out with each other. That doesn't sound like a boy who doesn't like you." Hannah stared at Sherlock for a moment, wondering if he was telling the truth or just pouring her these lies. "It doesn't take a consulting detective to realise that he likes you just as much as you like him." he smiled. She then smiled back and he hugged her tight.**_

_** They both sat in Hannah's room for a good twenty minutes laughing about random things after they went on to another topic, and then Hannah suddenly remembered why her father had actually gone in there. "Oh! Dinner!" she shouted, and then sighed, realising that was twenty minutes ago. **_

"_**Oh no!" they both looked to each other. "Take out?" Hannah nodded.**_

"_**Take out.".**_

Sherlock and Jack sat in the relatives room in silence. Jack silently crying his eyes out, and Sherlock taking everything in. He still hadn't shed a tear since the accident, but everyone could see it was because he had completely been destroyed. His heart was shattered and nobody knew how he was going to make it back from this. He turned slowly to the boy on the opposite side of the room crying heavily and offered him a tissue. "Thank... thank you." the boy spoke as he sobbed. Sherlock nodded and then watched him. "Your daughter... Hannah, I really did love her." Sherlock smiled a little and nodded again.

"And she you." he sighed.

"I know." the boy smiled sadly. "I'm so sorry for everything I've done-" Sherlock put his hand up quickly as he closed his eyes.

"You did nothing. I left her on her own, I should have been there. Don't worry; you did nothing."

"Thank you." he coughed. "Sir, neither did you." Sherlock didn't bother to respond to the boy's last comment. Jack realised he clearly didn't want him to speak to him as he was grieving and it would probably make things worse, so he left it.

One last look at his daughter. She was cold and pale. Not the girl he had known. She was now a cold body on a slab. She was once so lively and funny. Her smile made even Sherlock Holmes smile. Now there was no smile. She was expressionless. Motionless. It killed him to see her now like that. He had done this once already with his wife, and now it had happened to his daughter. He stood over her for a few minutes, but it _wasn't _her. Not anymore. So, he left quite soon. John was waiting outside for him and Mycroft had sent him a car. John didn't expect much conversation with Sherlock at all that day. He would ask him how he was, and, if he was lucky, he would get a shrug or a mumble of "I'm fine", but that was it from the consulting detective that day.

Once they had arrived at the flat Sherlock didn't really know what to do at first; he couldn't face the fact that Hannah wouldn't be there everyday. John watched him as he walked aimlessly around the house for a minute or two, trying to find something to do; keep his mind occupied. "I could stay with you if you want?" John suddenly spoke as Sherlock eventually sat himself down on an armchair. "I checked with Mary – she understands if that's what you want. I don't want you to go through this on your own." Sherlock didn't respond, mainly because he hadn't heard a word his friend had said as he had been in a world of his own. "Sherlock?" John spoke quietly and understandingly towards his friend.

"No, uh..." Sherlock shook his head. "You have your own family."

"Sherlock, you are a_ part_ of my family. I can stay with you if that's what you need. You can't be alone after this; not straight away anyway."

"It's fine, John. I'm fine." he shook his head again. John sighed, knowing Sherlock needed him but he wouldn't admit it. Knowing this was not going to work out. However, he did not insist on staying as Sherlock was in a fragile place and he didn't want to force anything upon him at his moment of weakness.

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**_Thanks to everyone who's been reading, hope you enjoy this chapter :) And thanks to those who have reviewed! You're the best! :) Please continue to read and review _**


	4. Chapter 4

John stayed for a while, sorting things out and helping Sherlock for the rest of the day. He wanted to help more, but he didn't know how to; he wasn't a therapist, and he certainly didn't know how Sherlock's mind worked. "I guess I'll be going then..." John spoke as he moved slowly towards the door, staring at Sherlock as he did, expecting him to ask him to stay. However, he just got a simple nod as a thank you, and then silence. He sighed and gave in. His body slumped a little as he begged Sherlock to realise he needed someone with him. "Sherlock, are you sure I shouldn't stay? I mean, look at you!" he walked back over waving his arm at him. "You've been sat there all day just staring at the walls. You _need _somebody, Sherlock." he had expected even Sherlock Holmes to surrender now, but still absolutely nothing. "Even the world's only consulting detective cannot get over this alone." he quietened his voice this time and looked solemnly towards his friend. Sherlock looked up at him from his chair with sadness in his eyes. He blinked and then turned his head away.

"I'm absolutely fine, John."

"What?" John shook his head frustratedly.

"Please just leave!" Sherlock shouted to his friend. John was incredibly taken aback by this and was speechless for a few minutes.

"I, uh..." John gathered himself together and then made his way, once again, towards the door. "I'm sorry." and he was gone. Sherlock looked away as he sniffed, stopping himself from breaking down into tears.

It was around 8PM Sherlock decided to turn in after doing absolutely nothing. He lay himself down gently and wrapped himself tightly in his duvet. Not once could he close his eyes and drift off. Constantly he tried, but he just couldn't force himself to sleep. It aggravated him terribly and drove him insane. Tossing and turning even though he knew it wasn't his position that was troubling him. Like a meerkat, he sprung up. He threw the covers off and then left to the living room where he sat himself down on the sofa and switched the TV on. Nothing good. He made himself as comfortable as he was going to get, and watched it all night.

The next morning his phone was flooding with texts and calls from his family and his few friends asking him whether he was alright and how he was doing. Everyone passing their condolences. Sherlock thought it was nice of them to do so, but at the same time, it wasn't what he wanted to read at that time. Mainly because he didn't want to think about her death because it would remind him of her accident and how he wasn't there for her when she needed him the most. Eventually, he put his phone into one of the kitchen cupboards and left it there.

Scratching his head, Sherlock went back to the TV and continued to watch the same old rubbish that he had the night before. That was until he heard a knock on his door. Another knock. Then a call for his name when he didn't respond. Muttering, he went to it and found Mycroft stood on the other side, leaning on his umbrella. He rolled his eyes and then just walked straight back in, leaving the door open knowing Mycroft was just going to follow anyway. Sherlock made himself comfortable on the sofa once more and then Mycroft wondered in. Glancing at all the mess and the dirt around the flat, Mycroft tutted a little and then turned to his brother. "I see you continue to live in an _organised mess_ as you like to call it." Sherlock completely ignored his brother's small talk, which Mycroft had anticipated. He sat himself down on the desk chair and stared at his brother who refused to look back. "I know it's hard, Sherlock, for you to adjust back to everything without... without Hannah," Mycroft choked. "But it is something you are going to have to do." nothing. Not even the childish shrug he would usually get. "Sherlock, please listen to me." he rubbed his face with one hand as he tried to get through to his stubborn brother. "I am incredibly sorry for your loss. I know it's hard after losing her mother as well, I-"

"Stop." Sherlock interrupted, not taking his eyes from the screen. Mycroft looked up quickly to him.

"What?"

"I said stop." this time he turned. Mycroft could see he had gone white whilst he had been speaking to him, and he could see the pain in his face. "Please, I want you to stop." and so Mycroft did. "Thank you." he switched the TV off as his brother began to speak again.

"Sherlock, what are you going to do? I heard you told John to leave yesterday? Why? He wants to _help _you, Sherlock. You do need it, although you won't admit it. Everybody needs it when getting over this sort of thing."

"I don't. I'm fine."

"What?" Mycroft scoffed in a ridiculous tone.

"I'm honestly fine."

"Really? Is that why I find you in here watching the television which you've never enjoyed? Is that why you've have no sleep whatsoever? Is that why, I'm guessing, you haven't really left this living room since you arrived yesterday, not even for food?" Sherlock stayed silent. "I thought not." Mycroft then pushed himself up. "What's your plan, Sherlock? Hum? You're going to sit in this flat for weeks, months even, denying anything is wrong until everything takes its toll?"

"Mycroft." Sherlock said sternly.

"Sherlock," Mycroft knelt down beside his brother and spoke softly. "You need to speak to someone. You need to do so early, so it doesn't affect you later." Sherlock turned his head away, seeming not to be interested. "I don't think Hannah or her mother would want you sitting around like this, would they?" Sherlock didn't respond, but he wanted to. He wanted to scream at his brother. He had no right. Absolutely no right to say something like that. However, he stayed silent and stared away from him. "Alright then." Mycroft sighed. "Goodbye, brother."

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**Thanks for reading so far :) Please continue with the reviews! And I am very sorry crumpdoreen, but you'll see why I did what I did**


	5. Chapter 5

_**Scotland Yard, now. – SH **_

John had received this text at 10AM a week later. He had hardly seen him for that week; he'd been trying his best to talk to him, but Sherlock wouldn't answer his calls or the door, John had to just enter willingly, but Sherlock wouldn't speak to him at all. He had no idea as to why Sherlock wanted him at Scotland Yard, nor what he was doing there. It couldn't possibly be a case, not after just a week. However, this was Sherlock Holmes; the man unable to admit defeat. He hurriedly got dressed and made his way quickly to the destination. Sherlock was stood waiting for him outside of the building, and as John walked over he noticed Sherlock was not his best. Pale face, bags under his eyes, hardly able to stand straight for long, unshaven face, etcetera. It didn't take a detective to realise he hasn't been sleeping or eating since he got back, even whilst at, the hospital. John sighed as he walked closer to his companion and then halted quickly in front of him. "What?" he said, quite angrily.

"I have a case." Sherlock said as if it were not something strange.

"What? What are you talking about, Sherlock?"

"A case; we have been solving them for quite a while now." John was surprised to see him being his usual sarcastic, arrogant self.

"But Sherlock, isn't it a little too early?" Sherlock looked to his watch.

"We've done cases earlier than this time before...?"

"No, Sherlock." John could see in Sherlock's eyes that he understood what John was getting at, but he wanted to avoid it at all cost. "It's been a week. A _week. _You can't do this; you need to mourn."

"John," Sherlock closed his eyes as he insisted he was fine. "I did my mourning. I don't fancy anymore of it, and, quite frankly, I don't need anymore time. I need to be doing things. I need to work."

"This is bloody ridiculous, Sherlock! You need to go home, get some rest, eat something, and take some time off! You need it; you are human, just like the rest of us. Whether you like it or not, you are _not _over this."

"Yes, I am. Drop it, John. I _need _to be here."

"Why? Why exactly do you _need _to be here?" Sherlock dropped his head a little, trying to refuse an answer.

"I, uh... I can't stand to be in the flat any longer." he said the last part rather quick, but John caught it. Suddenly, he realised why Sherlock wanted this; he couldn't be in the house alone because it reminded him of Hannah. John knew this was normal, and he knew that he had to face it because, otherwise, he would never get over it. However, a part of him couldn't say no. He had seen people die in front of his eyes and it wasn't pretty, nor was it easy to get over. He realised it was probably harder if it was somebody close to you. "I don't like to be on my own in there..." Sherlock continued after John hadn't said a word.

"I understand," John hushed his friend. "Fine. I'll do one case with you." he could see hope in Sherlock's eyes. "But just_ one_." he said strictly. Sherlock seemed annoyed a little at first, but then nodded in agreement.

Lestrade poked his head up quickly as he noticed the detective and his friend walking in. He was quite surprised and wondered whether they were there to solve a case or something. Surely not, he thought. It was too early for that. He went over and greeted them quickly with a huge smile. "How are you doing?" he asked Sherlock straight away.

"I'm fine." Sherlock seemed aggravated by Lestrade's question, so he dropped his smile and asked what they were doing there.

"I heard you are having trouble with a case. I mean, it doesn't surprise me that you are; I've been off for a week. I'm actually surprised you didn't call me sooner."

"Well, uh, I didn't think you would want me to, after what's happened-"

"Nonsense, Lestrade. I'm perfectly fine. Now, the case." Sherlock wondered straight into Lestrade's office. Lestrade shot a look quickly to John who hadn't spoken a word.

"What is going on?" he whispered to John.

"He just wants to be occupied; get his mind off of things." Lestrade nodded.

"Yeah, but it's not going to go away because he's occupying himself, John. If anything, it will make it harder for him when he has to face it again."

"I know, I know." John sighed.

"He can bury himself in his work as much as he wants, but it's not going to bring her back."

"Well he's only going to be doing this case. It's not like we can persuade him to go home; he won't listen to us."

"I guess not." Lestrade agreed.

The case was a small one; robbery. Nothing huge, just a small DVD store. Sherlock found it to be a piece of cake, which he had anticipated. John and Lestrade on the other hand believed he may be a bit slow because of recent events. However, it was quite the opposite. It seemed as if he was back to his normal self. Of course he still looked tired and sick, but apart from that, it was almost as if nothing had ever happened. John was astonished that Sherlock could just act like he'd not missed a thing.

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**Thanks for reading so far :) Please continue with the reviews! **


	6. Chapter 6

After solving the case, John took Sherlock to the flat in his car. "Sherlock, I _know_ you don't want to stay here on your own," John spoke as they entered the living room. "So I have spoken to Mary, and we both think it would be a good idea to maybe let you stay at ours for a few weeks? Just until you've dealt with everything." Sherlock turned to his friend.

"What?"

"You should stay with us, get your head around things."

"But I'm fine."

"Sherlock, we both know that isn't true. So you solved a case, big deal. It doesn't mean you're over this. You haven't slept since the day you arrived at the hospital, or eaten, and you haven't taken any care of yourself whatsoever which is clear from the stubble that is growing. That is not _fine._" Sherlock sighed and dropped his head. "Now, pack your things." Sherlock stood for a moment, examining his friend. "That wasn't a request." Sherlock watched his friend for a moment, thinking he could get out of it. However, a part of him believed it would be a good idea to get away from the house. He would no longer have to be alone. He would no longer see the ghost of his daughter. He needed to leave, even if only for a few weeks. So, he gave in. He nodded, and then gathered some of his things together in a suitcase.

As John drove Sherlock to his home, Sherlock stared out of the back window into space. He sat in his own little world as he couldn't bare reality. He watched the rain as it drizzled down the window, and listened to how it pattered against the window softly. He thought about what was going on; how he was being taken to John's home to be cared for, and how he had sent Hannah to be cared for by her aunt. He sat wishing he had spent more time with her.

"_**Where are we going?" Hannah squeaked from the back seat as she watched out of the window. The weather was dreary and damp that day, meaning the atmosphere was very gloomy. However, Hannah wasn't one for being gloomy. She smiled as she watched the raindrops fall into the puddles and when the cars around her made huge splashes, almost like waves, as they drove into enormous puddles. Sherlock, on the other hand, was more than just gloomy. He sat at the wheel as if he were in complete and utter darkness. As if he were alone and he just couldn't go on. His eyes were tired and his body ached, not even Hannah's laughing could cheer him up at this point. "Dad?" she asked again as she leaned a little forward to try and get his attention. Sherlock cleared his throat a little and managed to speak.**_

"_**Your aunt Claire's house." he spoke quietly and miserably. Hannah sighed as she hit her feet against the seat. **_

"_**How come?"**_

"_**We're... **_**You're****_ just staying with her for a bit." Hannah's face quickly shot up. Stay there? For how long? Without her dad? Where was he going? Why was she staying and he wasn't?_**

"_**What? Why?" she asked with slight panic in her voice.**_

"_**Because... because I need to sort some things out." he sighed. Hannah was only young, but she knew what he was talking about.**_

"_**Is it about mum?" she asked quietly, her smile slowly fading. Sherlock nodded slowly and closed his eyes for a moment as he pulled into the drive. "When can I come home?" **_

"_**I don't know yet, honey." he sighed as he opened his door and then went to get her from the back. **_

_** They reached the door and Hannah watched as Claire hugged her father kindly and then invited them in. She wiped her feet aggressively on the mat, ensuring all the dirt came off, and then she followed her father who held her hand. "Hannah, do you want to go and watch some TV with your uncle?" Claire knelt down and asked her nicely. Hannah smiled and nodded, and then ran into the living room. Sherlock thanked Claire and then they went to sit in the kitchen for a cup of tea. **_

_** Sherlock stroked the side of his cup, not drinking from it at all. Claire watched as the broken man sat in front of her stared at the drink inside of it. She sighed and then broke the silence. "I will look after her for as long as you want." Sherlock looked up.**_

"_**Thank you." he nodded. "I don't... I don't know when I will be able to. I don't know if she's best living with me." **_

"_**Sherlock, you're a good father."**_

"_**No," Sherlock shook his head. "I **_**was****_. I was a good father." he sighed. "Now, I honestly don't know what I'll be."_**

"_**She loves you, and you love her."**_

"_**Exactly. I love her, and I don't want to ruin her life. That's why... that's why I need you to look after her. That's why I don't think I can come back for her." Claire sighed.**_

"_**She needs her father, Sherlock."**_

"_**She doesn't need me." he stood up. "I'm going to say goodbye." Claire sighed, but didn't argue as she followed him into the living room. **_

_** "Hannah?" Sherlock called her over to him. She ran over quickly and he knelt down to speak to her quietly. "I'm... I'm going to go now, okay?" he began to tear up a little as he spoke. **_

"_**How... how long for?" **_

"_**I don't know." tears began to roll down his cheeks as he sniffed. "But I'll write to you."**_

"_**When?"**_

"_**Always. For your birthday, for Christmas, just as much as I can."**_

"_**What if you run out of things to write?" she asked as she began to cry a little.**_

"_**I won't," he held onto her. "You believe me, I'll never run out of things to write to you. Okay?" she nodded slowly and then he hugged her tight. After a few minutes, he let go and sniffed. "Now you be a good girl, alright?" he said as he stood up. Hannah nodded hesitantly. "You'll be fine. I swear to you, you'll be absolutely fine." he smiled, yet his tears showed that he wouldn't. He let go of her and then began to leave. She quickly ran after him and then hugged him once more.**_

"_**Please, don't leave me!" she cried. Sherlock kissed her forehead and patted her head. **_

"_**I have too, honey. I have too." he sighed as he let go. She cried for him as he walked away and got into his car, but he had to ignore it. Just before he left, he stared at her from his car window. He cried as he watched her pour her heart out, but he knew it was the best for her. And then, he drove away. **_

They both arrived to the home after a twenty minute drive. John helped his friend lift his bag out of the car as he could see how weak he was. Sherlock insisted he was fine and he could carry it alone, but John knew better than to listen to him. Sherlock rolled his eyes and they walked over to the front door. John was just about to reach for the handle when he paused for a moment and looked to Sherlock who seemed eager to get inside. "Sherlock..." he sighed as he stared into his friend's hopeless, tired face. "This is just to get you away from the flat for a bit, clear your head. It's not so you can forget about everything that has happened, it's just so you can get some rest, eat and drink something, and then prepare yourself to go back and face it. Because you will have to face it sometime, you know? And I know you've been avoiding it since you left the hospital." John believed this would make Sherlock open up a little more, confess how he really felt so they could help him. Sherlock stared at his friend and sighed. He knew John wasn't an idiot; he knew how he worked. If anyone knew Sherlock Holmes it was John Watson. However, instead of breaking down, instead of admitting how hurt he really felt, he just nodded slowly. John sighed but he did not persist in trying to get the detective to say anymore. He simply opened the door and stood waiting, allowing Sherlock to enter first.

Mary greeted the doctor and the detective with a smile. She kissed Sherlock on the cheek, apologising for his loss. Sherlock nodded gratefully, but he still hated hearing people apologise for what wasn't their fault. She proceeded to ask him how he was, to which he merely shrugged his shoulders. He made it quite clear that he didn't want to speak about his daughter's death, or the past week he had been at home alone grieving. John could see he was aching to just go to the spare bedroom, and so he took him.

"Here it is." John smiled as he opened the door to the bedroom. Sherlock stumbled inside and threw his bag down on the floor beside the bed. He glanced around; a plain, white wall stared back at him. He sat himself down onto the bed and placed his hands in prayer position to think. "So, is this alright?" John asked as he tried to engage in conversation. Unfortunately, Sherlock still wasn't in the mood for it, which John could plainly see, and so he nodded understandingly and left.

"How long will he stay?" Mary asked as she prepared the dinner. John sat at the table as he watched her cook.

"I don't know, I guess until he gets better."

"He's going to be here a while then; he looks absolutely dreadful." she sighed sympathetically.

"I know, I know. He hasn't been eating or sleeping since she went to hospital, really. And God knows what he's been up to during the past week." Mary stopped cooking and stared at her husband.

"You don't think...?"

"Well, I don't know."

"But he can't have. Can he?"

"He used to be an addict, Mary. Mycroft warned me in the hospital to watch him. I don't know for sure, but maybe he did."

"Well," she continued her cooking. "Let's just hope he hasn't. And, if he did, hope he won't do it again."

"Hm." John nodded. "I just hope he can clear his head here; realise he needs time to grieve. I mean, I don't know what he was thinking going out on a case today. After _a week._"

"Oh yes, how was today?"

"It was... better than expected."

"What do you mean?"

"I just thought, because of it all, he may be off his game. Normally, anyone would return to work and just fail to adjust straight away. Especially after a week. But no, Sherlock was absolutely fine. Obviously he was a little slow because of lack of sleep and food, but apart from that, he was fine with it all!"

"Maybe he just wants to get back to it all."

"I know, but he needs time to grieve. If he occupies himself; if he keeps his mind off of everything, it will affect him in the long run. The past always has a way of catching up with people. I mean, I thought maybe he would have thought about that when she found him and it brought everything back about his wife." Mary nodded.

"I think you'd better just let him figure it out for himself, John. You need to be patient with him, John."

"I guess so."

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	7. Chapter 7

John patted on the door of the spare bedroom. He heard a slight groan from the other side and so he carefully opened the door to find Sherlock sat as he had been before. "Dinner's ready." John spoke quietly, trying not to alarm his friend.

"I'm alright, thanks." Sherlock nodded.

"But, Sherlock, you haven't eaten in weeks. Please, will you just come and have dinner."

"John," Sherlock looked up. "You know me, I barely eat anyway."

"Yes, and I also know that you are going to have to eat someday, so you may as well start now." Sherlock groaned a little. "Sherlock, you're here so that you can clear your mind, but also so that I can help you. At least to get you fit again, you look dreadful."

"Fine. If it will shut up you, then fine." he rolled his eyes as he got up. John smiled as he had succeeded, and he took Sherlock down and sat him at the table.

They all sat at the table in silence. None of them knew what to say to break the silence, and so they just ate what was in front of them. Mary or John would look at the other, about to say something. However, they would quickly just shake their heads and look back down at their plates. Sherlock spent most of his time playing with his food as if he were a child. John wasn't pleased, but he saw Sherlock have some of it which was the first step, so he didn't ask him to eat it all.

As soon as dinner was over, Sherlock went back up to the spare bedroom. John looked to Mary, who told him to go and speak to him. John went up and knocked once before entering without consent. Sherlock was sat doing absolutely nothing, as he had been since he arrived it seemed. John sat beside him and sighed. "Sherlock, do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" Sherlock turned to him.

"About how you're coping with everything. About Hannah's... Hannah's death."

"I don't need to; I'm fine."

"Sherlock, I _know _you're not."

"Yes, John, I _am. _Please stop trying to fix what isn't broken." he sighed as he looked away. John knew he would get the real answer from Sherlock eventually, but he didn't bother to ask him anymore.

"Alright, alright. Anyway, have you, erm, organised the funeral?" John coughed as he realised it was a touchy subject, but she had to have a funeral.

"Yes, it's next Saturday."

"Oh, when did you plan it?" John seemed surprised by the fact he had already planned it.

"Last week. I wasn't going to leave it for weeks; I owe it to Hannah." John nodded in agreement and then smiled to his friend.

"That's good then, I guess."

Later on, John left Sherlock's room and retired for the night with Mary. Sherlock made himself comfortable in his temporary bed and wrapped himself in the blanket. He stared at the wall in front of him as he tried to sleep. He wasn't able to straight away, and so he sat watching the wall for a few hours. He began to remember the times when he and Hannah would stay up all night to watch some silly show of hers when she couldn't sleep, and it made him smile sadly.

"_**Dad?" Hannah spoke as she stumbled into the living room, rubbing her eyes as she did so. It was around midnight Sherlock's daughter came down and Sherlock was sat at his desk reading some notes for the case he was in the middle of solving. He looked up as he heard her voice and then walked over to her. **_

"_**What are you doing up?" he asked as he looked to his watch. "It's almost midnight!" **_

"_**I know, I just couldn't sleep."**_

"_**Why, what's wrong?" he asked sympathetically as he sat her down.**_

"_**I was just thinking about the other day..."**_

"_**When?"**_

"_**When you went out on that case." she sighed. "I just... I just get worried sometimes that you won't come back." **_

"_**What do you mean?"**_

"_**What if someone hurts you or something? What if you died?"**_

"_**Oh, Hannah!" he said as he sat down beside her, placing his arm around her and holding her close to him. "You don't need to worry about me, honestly."**_

"_**But you chase a lot of psychotic people, dad." Sherlock sighed and kissed her forehead gently.**_

"_**You don't need to worry about me, Hannah. I'm virtually indestructible!" he joked. Hannah smiled a little, but still was quite worried. "Listen, I will always make sure I come back. I will always come home, and you know why?" Hannah looked up to him. "Because I have you to look after. I will always be here for you. Always. Alright?"**_

"_**Alright." Hannah mumbled. **_

"_**Hannah, I swear to you I will always come back for you. I swear." Hannah smiled to him and then hugged him tight. He laughed a little and then let her go. "Now, I guess, seeing as you can't sleep, we're going to be watching one of those strange TV shows you love so much?" Hannah nodded enthusiastically as she smiled. Sherlock smiled back and then stood up. "I'll make us some drinks and you put it on. I think we may also have some snacks you can have..." he went into the kitchen quickly. **_

_** Soon, he came out with some chocolates and two drinks. He placed the food on the table and handed Hannah her drink as she pressed play. He sat himself down beside her and held her close to him as they watched her favourite show. **_

Sherlock stayed up for quite a while remembering it all, but he eventually fell asleep at four in the morning and got two hours sleep. It seemed like nothing to everyone else, but for Sherlock it was a big improvement as he hadn't been sleeping at all before he arrived at John's home.

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	8. Chapter 8

A few days later, Sherlock sat in his new bedroom going out of his mind.

**Any new cases? - SH**

**I thought you were just doing the one? - GL**

**Until I was ready to continue, which I am. - SH**

**But the last one was only a few days ago. - GL**

**I'm telling you, Lestrade, I'm perfectly fine. What cases do you need my help with? - SH**

Lestrade stared at the message he had just received and sighed. He rubbed his forehead, considering whether to tell Sherlock about the current case Scotland Yard was struggling to solve. He knew Sherlock was in a vulnerable position, even if he wouldn't say so himself. Thinking about it, he decided to message John and ask for his opinion. John called him and began to consider it, but he wasn't sure it was in Sherlock's best interest to go. Yes, he had been eating now, he had washed and shaven, and it seemed like he was sleeping fine. However, it didn't seem like he had thought about Hannah or her death, which he had to do because he needed to grieve. Work would just take his mind off of it and keep him running away from it.

John entered the spare bedroom and found Sherlock dressed, ready to go out. "I'm going on a case, John. Care to accompany me?"

"Sherlock, do you really think it's wise to be doing so? You've just come here, cleared your mind, and now you're off again on cases. That's not why I brought you here, I brought you here so that you would realise you need to grieve."

"John, I don't _need _to grieve. Hannah's gone. She's not coming back. I understand, John." every word he said seemed cold, like he'd just accepted her death. To anyone else, it would seem as if Sherlock didn't care for his daughter at all, but this was John he was talking to. The man who understood him.

"No, no, no." John shook his head. "I'm a doctor, I know you think you don't need to grieve, but you do. Otherwise, you will never accept it. And you can tell yourself that you have as much as you want, but you haven't."

"You're a _doctor. _Not a_ therapist_." Sherlock pointed out. "Please, I'm going on this case. I can't stand being cooped up in here all day everyday! I can't stand being in here, thinking about it all. I need to be out there, doing my job." it sounded as if he were about to cry as he spoke the last few words, but he held himself together. "This... this isn't my life, John. My life is my work. And right now, I'm going insane. Please, let me continue with my work." John knew he shouldn't let him. He knew he should say no. However, staring into his friend's desperate eyes made him reconsider. He threw his arms up as he gave in and nodded.

"Fine. Fine. We'll go on this case."

Lestrade gave them the files, the list of suspects, everything and let them get to work. Sherlock seemed like a man determined to get it right. He seemed as if he had never left, which made John wonder whether it was an act or whether he was just going back to normal. He had seen death before, and he had seen people grieve. He, of all people, knew that the grieving process was different for everyone. Maybe Sherlock couldn't grieve; it wasn't in his nature. Maybe he had to just be left to occupy himself with his work and that's how he liked it. It seemed as though that's how it was. However, John wasn't too sure, because Sherlock Holmes may seem like an alien at first, but he really was just a human being, with the same emotions that they all had.

John watched as Sherlock solved the case perfectly with no flaws, and it was better than the first time as he no longer lacked sleep or food. It was as if everything in the universe had been put back in to place. However, he knew this was just Sherlock running away from reality.


	9. Chapter 9

Of course that was how the rest of the days went; Sherlock managed to go on a case or continue on unsolved ones, whilst John begged him to just take a moment to see that he needed to take a break. Sherlock didn't listen to a word he said, and soon John started to give up. It seemed as if Sherlock was doing absolutely fine; his work was going well, he was eating, sleeping. He was almost back to his normal self. John didn't know what to think, so he just let Sherlock do what he wanted as it worked out for him. It was as if Hannah had never been there. "Are you ready?" John asked as he entered Sherlock's room in a smart black suit and tie. Sherlock was sat on the edge of the bed in his dressing gown staring at the suit hung on a wardrobe. John entered and sat beside him. "I know it's going to be tough for you, but you'll get through it." he patted his friend's back.

"I'm fine." Sherlock spoke, still staring at the dark suit.

"It's alright to admit that you're not, you know? This must be hard for you, don't pretend you're okay."

"John, I said I'm fine." he spoke sternly as he ignored his friend's attempt to comfort him. John said and put his hands together as he stood up. Walking to the door, he turned back and sighed.

"Just tell me if you need anything, okay?" Sherlock didn't bother to reply, he didn't see the point because John knew he wasn't going to need anything. He had drummed it into his head that he was absolutely fine, and today was going to be no different.

The drive to the funeral was in almost silence. People apologised to Sherlock for his loss as he got in, but that was about it. John tried to comfort Sherlock once more, as did Mary, yet he ignored them and sat watching the world out of his window. How could it go on? How could it still be turning and moving when the one person he cared about wasn't there? He thought to himself. However, he didn't care to share these thoughts or feelings with anyone else, and he tried to stop himself from getting hurt as he knew it was just a disadvantage.

"_**Dad?" Sherlock heard her quiet voice over the phone. "Can you come and pick me up?" he could sense something was wrong, and he had an idea of what it was. **_

"_**Is everything alright?" **_

"_**No..." Hannah shook her head, tearing up a little as she spoke.**_

"_**Okay, okay. Where are you?" he asked sympathetically. Hannah gave him the address of her friend's house, and he went as fast as he could to pick her up. **_

_** Knocking on, Sherlock shook a little as he waited for his daughter to come out crying. He knew what was the matter, it had been on his mind all day, and so he understood exactly what she was going through. Hannah's best friend, Natalie, answered the door with her arm wrapped around Sherlock's daughter. She smiled to him warmly, and then slowly handed Hannah over. "Sorry," Hannah sobbed to her friend as Sherlock held her. **_

"_**No, no, it's absolutely fine." Natalie spoke kindly. "I just hope you're okay." she nodded. Sherlock thanked her as Hannah couldn't, and then he placed her into the car. **_

_** Both sat in silence for the first ten minutes as Sherlock drove. Hannah sat beside him, sobbing silently as Sherlock knew he couldn't do anything. Every year this happened, and he knew that it was just something they were going to have to get used to. "I'm... I'm sorry, dad." she sniffled as she dried her eyes a little. He glanced over at her and then ruffled her hair. **_

"_**Don't apologise, it's fine."**_

"_**I know you must be upset too." she sighed. Sherlock didn't respond, he just coughed, trying to stop the conversation. Unfortuantely, his daughter wanted to continue.**_

"_**Don't worry about me," he spoke as he rubbed his nose. "And don't be sorry for being upset."**_

"_**I thought... I thought if I distracted myself, if I tried to have fun, I wouldn't be so sad."**_

"_**It's alright to be sad, Hannah. It's a day for being sad. I guess we just have to let it happen."**_

_** Hannah picked her head up quickly. "Dad? Where are we going?" she noticed they hadn't gone the normal route back home and was slightly confused.**_

"_**Well, I think it's best if we go and see her." **_

"_**But... but I'm not ready. We normally go later." **_

"_**Hannah, I know it's hard. But it'll make it easier if we go now. Then, we can go home, eat as much ice cream as is humanly possible, and then sleep it all off. Alright?" Hannah stared at her father. **_

"_**You? Eat ice cream?" she grinned a little as she rubbed her eyes. **_

"_**I do eat human food, you know." he laughed a little with her. **_

"_**Rarely." she smiled. "Do we even have ice cream?"**_

"_**Of course we do! You act as if I have never got you any nice food at all."**_

"_**Act? It's not an act." she turned away grinning. Sherlock nudged her a little playfully and they both smiled to each other. Then, Hannah's smile fell once again which made Sherlock's fall. **_

"_**It's going to be alright, don't worry." **_

_** They arrived. Hannah didn't want to leave the car at first. When she did she held onto her father's hand as if she would never let go. "We didn't bring her flowers!" she began to panic. Sherlock pulled some from the boot and smiled to her. She sighed with relief and then they continued on. Many graves were passed as they slowly made their way to Rachel's. Once reached, Sherlock handed Hannah the flowers to put down. Letting go of her father's hand, she gently placed them down on top of where her mother was buried. That's when she began to cry. Tears flooded her eyes as she stood back up. Tightly, she held onto Sherlock and placed her head into him as she continued to pour her heart out. Seeing her like that destroyed Sherlock. As he stared at the pile of dirt that covered his wife, he nearly began to tear up. However, he had to stay strong. He had to be the one who was there for Hannah; the shoulder to cry on. Not the one who shared his emotion. So, he coughed and stiffened a little to prevent any tears from forming, and held onto his daughter whilst she cried and cried. **_

_** Back at the flat, Hannah threw herself down on the sofa. Exhausted from all her crying, she lay and watched TV. Sherlock sighed sadly and went into the kitchen. Then, Hannah noticed his arm waving out of the kitchen. In his hand was a tub of Ben and Jerry's chocolate chip ice cream; her favourite. She smiled a little, and then waited for her dad to come out and hand it to her with a spoon. He then dropped himself down beside her and let her cuddle into him as she ate. "Told you we had ice cream." he joked. Hannah just looked up to him and smiled a little as she nudged him gently. **_

The car stopped. They had arrived. John and Mary exited the car, leaving Sherlock still sat in his own little world. However, he was soon tapped back into reality by John who was knocking on the window trying to get his attention. Sherlock quickly realised they were there. It was too soon for him; he wasn't ready. His hand was on the handle, but he just didn't have the strength to open the door. He stared into the bleak graveyard and wondered why he was there again. Why had it happened again? John opened the door and reassured Sherlock everything was alright. It would all be okay. But it wouldn't, would it? She was dead. She wasn't going to come back. How was this going to be _alright? _Of course John just _had _to say it. Because that's what friends do at times like this; they lie to protect you.

Eventually, John managed to persuade Sherlock to come out, reminding him he had no other choice and how he owed it to Hannah. He came out and placed his foot on the concrete. The cold breeze hit his face like a wave as the darkness surrounded him. As he moved closer and closer the darkness followed him and covered the places around him. Everywhere he looked it was there, waiting for him, nowhere untouched because it had the higher power. John placed his hand on Sherlock's back, but he shrugged it off pretending everything was fine and acting as if the episode in the car didn't happen. As he walked closer, he could see everybody staring at him. With their glares full of sympathy they bowed their heads as he walked passed. He didn't understand why they were feeling sorry for him. Hannah was the one who was dead. She was the one that was now being buried before them. He sat himself down at the front before they called upon Sherlock to give his eulogy. John reassured him before he went on it would be okay, but Sherlock just told him he knew it would and ignored him. John sighed as he went on, but Mary placed her arm around him as she knew he had to let Sherlock try and do this for himself. However, John felt partly responsible for what happened; nagging Sherlock to hurry up to get to Scotland Yard. He couldn't help but feel a little to blame.

Sherlock stood for a moment staring at everyone, all eyes were on him. Mycroft was there, Lestrade, Molly, Jack, Natalie, her aunt Claire and uncle Steve, and other friends she had made. They were all in tears, especially Natalie. Still, Sherlock did not cry. He couldn't. He had to stay strong because that's who he was. Coughing, he began his speech. He told a few stories about the fun times they shared, the sad times, and how they were reunited. As he looked back, he smiled at the memories they had together; the ridiculous ones, the small ones, the stupid ones, even the sad ones because they managed to get through them. "The truth is," he spoke as people dried their eyes. "I could have had a lot more time with my daughter. I _should _have had. I shouldn't have let her go, and I shouldn't have let this happen. Hannah was amazing, and she had a lot more to show, but now she can't." he continued and then finally said goodbye. Unfortunately, it didn't feel real to him. The goodbye was just a fake because she had already gone; she couldn't hear it. He wanted to be able to say it before it happened. He didn't want the rushed one that they had had before he left for work.

Jack and Natalie said a few words, trying hard not to break down as they spoke which seemed to be quite difficult for the pair. Not a word they said triggered Sherlock. John thought maybe this would make him see that this is _real._ Maybe it would cause him to just shed a single tear or something to show some emotion or grieving. It didn't. Sherlock couldn't because he knew this was just a way for people to say their fake goodbyes to someone that's already gone. Funerals were not for the person that was being buried. They were for their families, their friends etcetera. He wanted something for _her. _

On the way home, Sherlock didn't bother speaking to anyone. Mary and John discussed a few things quietly, knowing Sherlock had his mind on other things so he wouldn't be listening in. When they got to the house, Sherlock went into the bedroom he had been given and stayed there for the rest of the day. John brought his food up, but he barely touched any of it. That night he barely slept as he had the image of Hannah's and Rachel's gravestones sat side by side.


	10. Chapter 10

Sherlock treated the day after the funeral as any normal day. He called Lestrade and told him he would be at Scotland Yard as soon as possible to continue with a case, and Lestrade could do nothing but allow him as Sherlock Holmes would not take no as an answer. Plus, he needed the help. John was slightly annoyed that Lestrade would use him at such a bad time, but he knew Sherlock would go anyway. The best John could do was go with him and help him out.

However, the day after the funeral, John had had enough. He had to draw a line. "No, Sherlock!" he spoke before Sherlock could leave. "Your daughter's funeral was _yesterday. _You shouldn't be gallivanting about solving cases, you should be grieving! I know you are upset, Sherlock, I'm not an idiot! Yesterday in the car I saw it; I saw the devastation in your face, the sadness that is growing inside you. You need to grieve before it all becomes too much."

"John, yesterday in the car... it was a moment of weakness. Of course I was sad yesterday, it was her funeral. But I have to move on; you should know that better than anyone!" John shot Sherlock a stern look. "All I'm saying is that if I don't move on, then what's the point? I'm supposed to wallow in sadness and self-pity for the rest of my life? I need to be doing things, I need to be active. My mind isn't programmed to grieve; it was made to be used."

"But Sherlock, all I want you to understand is that you _are _human. You do need to have some time to make sure you're alright."

"I _am_ alright, John." he said, John could see the desperation in his eyes; the craving to get out and try to forget about everything. "People grieve differently." John sighed and shook his head.

"Fine! Fine." he gave in. He knew he shouldn't have. He knew it was stupid as now Sherlock would never realise how urgently he needed help. However, he _understood. _He understood where Sherlock was coming from, because he was right; he had seen so much death in the army. He had seen so much horror, and he hated mourning them. He had made himself move on.

Therefore, they went on another case. And another. And another. Almost every day there was a case for them which meant Sherlock hardly ever thought about his daughter. John could see he was almost back to normal, which saddened him a little because he thought Sherlock would have grieved over Hannah; he would have seemed a little more upset. On the other hand, he had no idea what was going on in Sherlock's head, for all he knew he could be thinking of her all the time, but never letting on or only thinking of happy times with his daughter.

A few days later, John entered Sherlock's room to find him busy at work. Sherlock didn't care to look up as John sat in front of him; he just mumbled things related to the case to himself. "Sherlock?" John spoke quietly. Sherlock refused to answer. "Sherlock." he spoke louder this time, demanding to be heard. Sherlock looked up quickly.

"John, I've nearly cracked the case. It has to be the mother-"

"Sherlock, you need to move out." Sherlock stopped smiling. It fell as John spoke. He stared at his friend, wondering whether he had just heard correctly.

"W... what?"

"I... _we _think it's best for you to move back to your flat again now."

"You and Mary? Why?"

"Well, Mary's pregnant so we'll need time to plan a lot out and stuff."

"Pregnant?"

"Yeah, we uh... we told you already, last week." Sherlock remembered. He shook his head slowly as he realised he had to go back to the flat. As he realised even John couldn't look after him anymore. As much as he had made out he didn't need him, he really did. Deep down he was incredibly grateful for what John had done for him.

"So you're starting a family of your own," Sherlock managed to put on a little smile. "Congratulations."

"Thanks." John nodded, seeing how hard Sherlock was taking it. He knew he would, now that John would have a child just as Sherlock had lost one wasn't the best thing for him to hear, which is probably why he forgot about it, but he had to hear it. "I'm really, really sorry. But you seem to be well back on your feet now." John smiled cheerfully, patting his friend. Sherlock smiled along, but knew this would be a complete disaster for him. "All those cases, you've eaten, slept, even washed!" he joked. However, as Sherlock's smile slowly sank, as did John's. "Listen, Sherlock, I know it's going to be hard for you. You've hardly been at the flat since... what happened, and so it's going to be difficult. But you're Sherlock Holmes; you'll pull through this." Sherlock nodded even though he disagreed. "And, if you ever need me, I _am _just a phone call away." he smiled comfortingly. However, it didn't reassure Sherlock. He was absolutely terrified about going back.

"Why would I need you?" he asked. "It's no big deal. I am, after all, perfectly fine." he lied. John knew he was taking it badly, but he couldn't argue with him. So, he just smiled in agreement and then stood up to leave. "When do I need to be gone by?"

"Uh..." John scratched his head, not wanting to say something too early, but neither wanting to say anything too late. "The end of this week, maybe?" Sherlock nodded.

"I'll pack my things and be out of your hair by tomorrow evening." he didn't want to stay so long if he knew he was just going to have to leave soon.

"Are you sure? You don't have to go so soon, I-"

"It's fine, John." so, John accepted and exited the room, leaving Sherlock to sit in silence wondering what would happen next.


	11. Chapter 11

A few weeks later, Sherlock stumbled into his flat, a bottle of vodka in his hand. He threw it into his mouth as soon as he sat himself down, drowning his troubles and his sadness. Not once had he touched alcohol since John's stag, and he didn't think he ever would again. However, these were hard times, and somehow alcohol soothed the pain. He would have gone back to drugs; they were easy to obtain and he had used them before. On the other hand, he had made a promise to his daughter that he would never use them again. Maybe she wasn't there, but he still felt as if he owed her that much, and so alcohol seemed as if it was the only solution.

A vibration from his pocket alerted him and he placed the vodka down on to the table in front of him. Reaching into the pocket, he grabbed his phone and read the name on the screen. Lestrade. "Lestrade?" he speech was a little slurry, yet Lestrade was too busy to notice and it didn't seem so bad over the phone.

"Sherlock, I have a case. Can you come?"

"Sure." Sherlock saw absolutely no reason why he couldn't solve a case; maybe he was a little drunk, but this was Sherlock Holmes, everything would be fine.

"Thanks, I'll send you the address." Lestrade quickly hung up and within a few minutes Sherlock had received the full address for the case. Without hesitation, he jumped up and left the room, nearly falling down the stairs. He hailed a cab loudly and then proceeded to the investigation.

John stood with Lestrade waiting for Sherlock at the crime scene. As he staggered in, they both noticed the poor state he was in; the same clothes since yesterday, or even the day before that, then there was the dreary look on his face, bags under his eyes, and of course the lean suggesting he found it hard work just to stand. However, as he got closer, they noticed something even worse: the smell of alcohol. Sherlock reeked of it.

"Sherlock, have you been drinking?" Lestrade asked immediately as Sherlock reached them.

"What? No!"

"I can smell it all over you." Lestrade sighed, bowing his head. "I know... I know you're finding it hard to deal with everything that's going on. It can't be easy without her, and I'm truly sorry, Sherlock, but-"

"There's nothing to be sorry for! You're all going insane! I am perfectly fine."

"How exactly are you _perfectly fine?_" John interrupted.

"How aren't I?"

"For starters you haven't changed or washed since yesterday, or slept. I'm guessing you haven't eaten, either?" John spoke quickly.

"And you haven't really been on your A game with the cases I've given you recently."

"W-What? Of course I've been on my _A game_! I've solved them for you, haven't I?"

"Yes, but recently you've been a lot slower." Lestrade was right. Since Sherlock had moved back to 221B, he had been very slow with cases. He had been late, he had been slow, and he had been even more mysterious and barely gave anyone a clue as to what his ideas were for the cases. John had noticed it, and he worried it was all his fault for sending him home too soon, or letting him stay with him without just letting him grieve.

"Lestrade, I'm absolutely fine. Plus, if it wasn't for me, these would still be unsolved cases." Sherlock scoffed and continued to the victim who was lying in the next room. John and Lestrade looked to each other hopelessly and then followed him in.

Sherlock analysed the body all over. He continuously checked everywhere for some sort of sign. Unfortunately, the alcohol had blurred his mind more than he had anticipated and could, therefore, barely make any deductions about this woman. "Do you want to look?" Sherlock indicated to John, hoping he would shed some sort of light on to it; maybe make a simple observation that could start Sherlock off. John knelt beside the body and began to look her over, but he couldn't give much. Sherlock sighed quietly and panicked. His fingers rubbed against his thumbs as he desperately tried to make one simple deduction from this corpse. His head ached as he forced his mind to work harder. He closed his eyes tightly as he tried to work it out. However, the alcohol was winning and he just couldn't concentrate.

"So, got anything?" Sherlock heard the words he had been dreading. He opened his eyes slowly as he brought himself up. John could see it in his eyes there was nothing, and he was astounded by it; the hopelessness in his friend's face. The desperation as he turned to John, praying he could think of something. But he couldn't. Sherlock shook his head with despair.

"But... but just give me some more time." Sherlock begged.

"Sherlock, you know I can't do that!" Lestrade argued. "You're not exactly supposed to be here now! I need something from you. You must have something."

"I... I don't, I can't think." he sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Please, please Lestrade. Just let me have some more time! Let me just think this through!"

"I can't! Why can't you think now?"

"Maybe it's because of the drinking?" John spoke quietly. Sherlock turned to him and glared as he betrayed him.

"I told you, I didn't drink!"

"Sherlock, don't lie! You reek of it! It doesn't take a consulting detective to work out you've been drinking all night and even this morning!" Sherlock knew he wasn't going to get away with lying anymore. He knew it was getting him nowhere and so he gave in.

"Fine! Fine I had a drink. I had _a_ drink to take my mind off things, what else was I supposed to do?! Sit and wait for another case? Sit in a cold, lonely room all alone watching horrible TV shows? Is _that _what you want me to do?"

"No, I want you to get help! You need to talk to someone!" John began to raise his voice. "I mean, have you done anything else besides drinking?" John didn't have to say anything as everybody knew what was implied. Sherlock gave his friend a dead stare as he shook his head.

"Of course I bloody haven't! I swore I wouldn't go back to... I swore to Hannah that I wouldn't and so I haven't!" John could see in his friend's eyes that he hadn't taken drugs; he knew he was telling the truth, which made him feel guilty for accusing him of such a thing.

"So why alcohol?" John lowered his voice as he realised he needed to be calm. However, Sherlock was angry that he had been accused, and that he was being questioned about this at all.

"I needed _something _to scratch the itch!"

"Sherlock, I think it would be best if you just went outside and got some fresh air." Lestrade interrupted quickly, going over to the detective and trying to walk him out calmly.

"What? I don't need fresh air! No, no, I need to finish the case! I need to solve it." he pleaded, but Lestrade had to stop this madness.

"I don't think you do. I'm sorry, Sherlock, but clearly you're not fit for this right now. You need to go home and grieve. I don't know why you didn't sooner, and clearly you're paying the price."

"I'm fine, just let me solve this!" he begged as he was now being escorted out by both John and Lestrade.

"You're not _fine, _Sherlock. You're _human, _just like everybody else. You need to grieve. I'm putting you off the case." Sherlock's face fell completely. He couldn't do that.

"No, no! You... you can't."

"I have to. And I refuse to allow you to investigate any more until I know you've recovered." Sherlock tried to make him believe he already had, but he was no longer fooling anybody. John gave him a look of sympathy as he and Lestrade stayed inside to talk.

"_**I said no already, you can't take it!" Sherlock spoke sternly to Hannah as she pleaded.**_

"_**Come on, dad!"**_

"_**You haven't had the proper test!"**_

"_**I know how to drive it, it can't be that hard!" she shouted as she attempted to grab the car keys from her father. However, he was far too quick for her. "I've seen you drive plenty of times, and you taught me."**_

"_**I taught you how to park, not to drive on a busy road. I've said it already, Hannah you are **_**not **_**allowed to take the car. If you really want to meet your friends then you'll get a cab, or maybe the bus."**_

"_**The **_**bus?**_**" she spoke with some disgust in her voice. **_

"_**You are not taking the car!" Hannah huffed and threw her arms in the air, surrendering. **_

"_**Fine. Fine, I'll just get a cab. Never mind that I can drive. You win." She said angrily as she walked out, slamming the door behind her. Sherlock sighed and rubbed his face with his hand, regretting the argument already. He absolutely hated arguing with his daughter. **_

"I'll give you a lift home if you want?" John and Sherlock sat on a bench in the park near to the crime scene. Sherlock just stared in front of him, wondering what he was going to do. "Sherlock?" Sherlock shook his head gradually and John nodded.

"Alright. Okay." he stood up. "I'd better go; Mary wants me to help with some stuff." John wouldn't say what that stuff was as it was to do with their child, and he didn't want to mention it at that point as he knew it wasn't what Sherlock would want to hear about. "Are you sure about the lift?" Sherlock nodded. "Alright," he nodded. Then, before leaving, he placed his hand on Sherlock's shoulder and tried to get through to him. "Just remember, you can call me any time you need. Day or night. I don't want you getting like this again, Sherlock. You're tired, you're hungry, and you smell awful. You need to look after yourself, mate. You need to try and let this go." Sherlock didn't respond as he didn't know how to, and so John left it at that.

Sherlock soon got up from his seat and left the park. However, he didn't want to go back to the flat. His mind was still going crazy after everything that had happened at the crime scene that he just had to get away from everything. He couldn't do that at the flat, and so he hailed a taxi and went to the one place he knew he would be alone.


	12. Chapter 12

Sherlock ran quickly up to the roof and lit the cigarette. He walked around for a bit aimlessly while smoking, and then sat himself down against the small stairway wall. Slowly he inhaled, trying to take it all in. Then, he exhaled twice as slowly as he didn't want it to leave his system. As he sat there his thoughts drifted to his daughter. He had been trying to avoid it, but it needed to be given his attention. Now he had given up trying to fight it; he couldn't bare the fight anymore. The urge to think of her was too strong, and as much as he had tried to resist, he now let himself think of her.

As the smoke flew gently out of his mouth, he closed his eyes and thought about everything that had happened and everything that could have happened. He thought about how she had really only known him for a few years, and she was horribly snatched away from him too soon. Just like Rachel. Gradually, he reopened his eyes and sighed, lowering his head. Suddenly, he felt a slight nudge on his arm from the left of him, so he turned quickly, wondering who it could possibly be. When he saw who it turned out to be, he was speechless. He sat staring at her, wondering what was going on. She was just sat grinning, waiting for him to speak. "W... what?" he spoke silently. "What are you doing here? How are you here?" Hannah was the one sat beside him.

"I'm not." she spoke softly, lowering her smile.

"What?" after asking, Sherlock realised what was going on. Hannah watched his face drop in realisation as he figured out she was just a part of his mind. "Ah." he nodded slowly in despair.

"Dad, what are you doing?" Hannah asked after a moment of silence as she stared at him. Sherlock looked to her confused. "Why are you up here smoking?"

"What?"

"You're meant to be out on a case or something, not moping about."

"I just... needed some air."

"Well you won't get much smoking that thing." Hannah pointed to the cigarette in Sherlock's hand.

"I guess not." he looked at her, smiling a little. She smiled back, but then her smile fell once more as she stared at her father.

"I know it's hard, but-"

"What? What's hard?" Sherlock began to get defensive again, as he had with John.

"Getting over everything."

"I'm fine."

"Oh really?"

"Yes." he insisted. Hannah sighed and then held his hand.

"Then why am I here?" Sherlock looked to her, into her bright blue eyes. He knew she wasn't real, but he wanted her to be. He could feel her hand on his. He could see her. How was she not real?

"Look at me, sat here talking to myself." he sniffed away tears, turning away as he avoided her question. Hannah knew he would, and she decided not to persist on asking.

"It's not like you've never done it before..." she joked. Sherlock laughed a little, agreeing.

"Like you've never done it before!" he laughed, nudging her.

"I haven't!" she punched him jokingly and laughed. Sherlock raised an eyebrow to her. "Maybe once..." she admitted. Sherlock smiled and nodded.

"I knew it." as their laughter slowly faded, Hannah once again stared at Sherlock in despair. He knew what was coming. He knew she wasn't real. He knew he had to face his demons. He looked down away from her, but she managed to get his attention.

"Dad, please." she sighed. "Let John and Mycroft help you."

"I don't _need _help." he sighed, knowing she was going to get the truth out of him.

"You're forgetting that I'm not here; I am from your head, so I know what's going on in there. You _do _need their help." Sherlock jumped up angrily and began to shout.

"Why do you have to be... dead?!" he screamed at her. "Why?!" he began waving his arms around a little in anger. Hannah sat there and listened to him; she wasn't surprised, because she knew this had been building up inside of him. "First Rachel, and now... and now..." he broke down for the first time since Hannah had died. Tears streamed down his face as he tried to continue. He dropped himself to the floor, not caring about hurting himself. He placed his hands over his eyes as he cried hysterically, mumbling things. Hannah watched him silently.

"It's going to be okay."

"No... no it won't. It can't be." he sobbed. Hannah went over to him and sat herself beside him. "I miss you... Hannah. I really miss you." he rubbed his eyes a little and removed his hands from his face, even though he continued to cry a little. "I want... I want more time with you."

"I know, and I you."

"Why... why do you have to be dead?" Sherlock looked to his daughter. His image of his daughter and waited for a response.

"I don't know," she sighed. "But I am." she nodded to her father. "And you need to carry on with your life. You need to get help, and you need to continue with your everyday life."

"But... but I don't want to lose you. Not again."

"Dad, I'm already gone." she began to tear up a little. "I'm not even here! This isn't me! I died in the car accident and I'm not coming back. Please, please dad," she begged. "Don't live mourning me. Because that's not what I want."

"H... how? How can I go back to normal?"

"You need help. Let your friends help you." Sherlock stared at her and knew she was right. He slowly closed his eyes and nodded. Hannah smiled to him warmly.

"I have to go now."

"What? But I don't want you to."

"Well, I think you need me to. You're the one who's projecting this image."

"Don't... don't go." slowly, she disappeared, leaving Sherlock devastated at the top of the hospital roof.


	13. Chapter 13

Sherlock slowly entered his home, throwing his keys weakly onto the desk table. After pulling himself together on the roof of St Bart's, he had decided to go and visit the graves of both his wife and daughter. Not a good idea. He couldn't be bothered to take his coat off, or do anything for that matter. All he did was throw himself down onto the sofa and think about what had just happened. Did he need help? Should he speak to someone? All of this ran through his head over and over as he wondered what was next for him. He couldn't take it; all of these questions, questions he'd been avoiding since the death of his daughter. Luckily, a sudden knock on the door distracted him. He opened his eyes quickly and jumped up. Opening it, he saw John staring to him uneasily. "Where have you been?" he asked as he entered without permission. Sherlock just turned to him as he walked back into his living room.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean where did you go? After the case?"

"Just… out."

"_Out? _Where?"

"Do you really need to know? I just went to get some fresh air."

"I'm just _concerned, _Sherlock. I came to check on you and you weren't here. I called, Lestrade called, even Mycroft tried, yet no answer. What was I supposed to think?" Sherlock just shrugged in response, showing little interest in the matter. "Sherlock, I'm just looking out for you. I mean, God knows what you could have been do…" his words slowly stopped as Sherlock stared at him. John hadn't meant to say that, but it just came out by mistake and he realised what he had done.

"I've told you once, John: I'm not doing drugs. Run any test you want to prove it; I have nothing to hide." He spoke angrily. John sighed and nodded, realising it was stupid to say anything.

"Well then where were you? Why can't you just tell me?"

"Because, John!" he screamed. "I don't have to tell you everything. Here's an idea; why don't you just tag me or something? Then you'll know where I am all of the bloody time!" John was quite taken aback with Sherlock's response, and stayed speechless for a minute or two.

"I, uh… I'm sorry." He shook his head apologetically.

"Maybe if I wasn't back _here_ you'd know where I was all the time!" John then realised what this was about. He knew what Sherlock was doing, and he wasn't going to let him blame him for this.

"Sherlock, how was I to know this would happen? You were doing well! I had to ask you to leave; I've got a baby coming!"

"I know! I know you do." As he spoke, his voice became quieter and he dropped himself on the floor, realising he was being stupid. "I'm… I'm sorry." John could hear the sincerity in his friend's voice, and so he quickly forgave him and sat himself beside him.

"Sherlock, I'm sorry you had to leave, but you need to spend time here; you need to get used to it." Sherlock had his head buried in his hands. "Maybe I shouldn't have let you stay, you should've been let to get used to it. I'm sorry that I didn't let you."

"I just… I just don't want to be alone, John." He sighed.

"I know, and you're not. I'm always here, you know that."

"But… but you have a child on the way."

"I still have time for you. You're my best friend. You helped me when I needed someone, and I will always be here to do the same." Sherlock didn't respond. "And, I know it's hard… Mary and I having a child, but… but everything will be alright. We'll never forget you, nothing will change."

"I miss her."

"I know you do."

"So… much. I want to see her."

"I know."

"Before, you told me I need to let this go," Sherlock lifted his head up to face his friend. John nodded as he listened. "You tell me I _need _to let go. But, what you don't understand is that, I will _never _let go. Maybe I'll get help, and maybe they can help me move on, but they will never help me let go. Because she was my _daughter. _You can never let go of something like that; she was my daughter and I will always be her father."

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_**Pleeeeease review**_


	14. Chapter 14

A few days later, barely anything had changed. Sherlock still wouldn't take care of himself. He still didn't know what was next for him. He still refused help. Nobody knew what to do. John had been round almost every day, but he didn't get much from his friend after what he had told him about letting go.

Sherlock didn't know whether he should get help or not; there were several pros and cons, most of the cons were only little things. One of the pros was that he would be able to go back to work, one of the cons was he would have to talk to someone about his feelings which wasn't really his thing. He was the man who was determined to solve everything alone; he could look after himself and wasn't going to let anybody tell him otherwise. Unfortunately, it had become clear to everyone else that he _couldn't_ take care of himself. He hadn't shaved, he hadn't washed properly, and he was getting increasingly ill due to the fact he didn't eat and he barely drank.

One evening, he found himself sat watching the same TV show he had almost every day. One of Hannah's favourites. Then, he tried to call John, he needed somebody. Today had been an incredibly low day for him and he needed his friend. Unfortunately, there was no response. Then, he tried Lestrade, but he was on a case. Molly was on a date and there was nobody else he could talk to. So, he grabbed his coat, and walked out of the living room. It had been a few days since he had actually been outside, but he had to talk to somebody. He stared down the stairs and was about to take a step before looking left towards the other stairs. His eyes slowly drifted upwards and then they stared at the door that sat above them. It hadn't been touched for weeks. Should he? Then he had a thought. He hadn't been able to even bring himself to go up there after the accident, and he hadn't planned on going ever. However, he knew if he could, there was hope for him. If he could do that alone, then he could get through this alone. If he couldn't then he would get help. He would speak to somebody.

Inhaling, he took the first step up the staircase. Was he ready? As he walked up, not backing down, he took deep breaths in and out. He counted the steps to distract himself from the real reason he was travelling up them. "Fifteen." He whispered to himself as he came to a halt. His eyes were drawn upwards as he looked to the door which was now directly in front of him. Could he do this? He paused for a moment, but then pushed himself up and stood right next to it. Staring at it, he placed his hand on the handle. He left it for a moment. Weakly, he attempted to push it. However, he stopped suddenly, realising what he was doing. He began to cry silently as his hand fell and his head drooped onto the door. He stroked it a little, and then turned. He sat himself down outside of it and cried.

"_**So you'll bring her here?" Sherlock asked Hannah's uncle on the opposite end of the phone. "Good, I'll have everything ready." He smirked as he hung up. Then, he went into the transformed room and stared around it all. He wondered whether she'd like it, whether he'd got everything right, and whether she would want to stay there. **_

_** Finally, she arrived. Sherlock was stood outside on the street waiting anxiously as the car pulled up. Hannah smiled as she got out, wondering what he had been up to that meant her leaving for a week. "How are you?" he smiled to her as her uncle grabbed some of her bags from the boot. **_

"_**Good." She smiled and nodded.**_

"_**Good, good." Neither of them knew what to say for a moment; what was to be said? They stared each other up and down, and then Sherlock finally gave in. He wrapped his arms around her tight and held her as if he'd never let go. She could tell he'd been waiting to do this for a while, and so she hugged him back as tight. The pair smiled with joy as they reunited. **_

_** "So come on, what exactly have you been doing that meant delaying my living here?" she smiled.**_

"_**Ah, come and see." Sherlock almost bounced with happiness as she asked, and then quickly led her inside. He took her slowly to her new bedroom, trying to build up the suspense. "Now, close your eyes." He smiled as he placed his hand on the handle. Hannah rolled her eyes.**_

"_**Do I **_**have **_**to?" she smirked.**_

"_**Only if you want to live here." He wasn't surprised at how fast she responded and grinned. A creak was heard as he opened the door, and he pushed her softly inside the room. "Go ahead, open them." He whispered. Slowly, his daughter opened her eyes. **_

_** Her bright blue eyes fluttered from one side of the room to the next. She was amazed at the amount of effort that had gone into it. Clearly Sherlock was serious about her staying permanently. She smiled in wonder as she tiptoed around her new room, placing her fingertips on things and stroking them. The wall was coloured in yellow, her favourite colour, and had images all around with her favourite characters from stories he used to read her when she was a child. Her desk had pictures of the whole family when she was younger, and little things she would enjoy. The bed was in the corner, surrounded with her few stuffed bears, and by the side was a book case full of her favourite books of all time. Sherlock smiled joyfully as he watched his daughter inhale the room. "Do you like it?" Hannah turned as her dad spoke.**_

"**Like**_** it?" she smiled. "I **_**love **_**it!" she ran to hug her father. "I can't believe you remembered the stories and the bears and… everything!"**_

"_**How could I forget? I've always remembered." **_

"_**Thanks." Sherlock nodded to her.**_

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**Sorry for the slow updates :/ please, please, please leave reviews**


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